


Snow (Remix)

by gunmetal_ring



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunmetal_ring/pseuds/gunmetal_ring
Summary: It's been two and a half years since Harry, Ron, and Hermione went on the run, and Ginny's grown tired.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Snow (Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289764) by [Emmilyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne). 



> A remix of Snow. Canon divergence in Deathly Hallows; Dumbledore's Army wasn't as successful at undermining the rule at Hogwarts, and the Weasleys never had to go into hiding. Harry, Ron, and Hermione haven't broken into Gringott's yet.

Snow is falling, slowly from the sky and quickly building on the ground. Ginny's not sure exactly when it started, but it's entrancing to look at just the same.

She gazes out the window, momentarily forgetting about the restock of trick wands she's holding, and remembers the calmer, happier blizzards at Hogwarts. Things seemed so much simpler then, though that's largely because she was kept in the dark.

So far away is her mind that she starts a little when George taps her on the shoulder. "Gin, did you hear me? I said we're closing up, get your things and we'll travel back together." He's already outfitted in his coat and hat, ready to go at a moment's notice.

Ginny rolls her eyes. "You don't need to escort me around. I'm not a toddler. I'm fully capable of Apparating on my own." George opens his mouth to argue, but she carries on instead. "I'm going to finish restocking because I don't want to have to do it tomorrow if we have customers, and Merlin knows you and Fred never do it, so just let me do it my way and I'll meet you at home in an hour or so." She sees him pause, and goes for the kill. "Besides, this way we don't have to have another argument wherein you lose who gets to Side-Along with whom."

George, miraculously blessed with better sense than Fred, seems to realize that this is a battle he doesn't need to pick. "Fine, but if you're not back in one hour, I'm coming back and forcibly taking you with me."

Ginny nods. "Fine. See you soon."

George rubs the skin where his ear used to be, an unconscious habit he's picked up to signal his discomfort, and makes his way to the back of the shop. Ginny doesn't move until she hears the tell-tale _crack_ of his disappearance, and resumes stocking.

She meant it, after all. She's had very little space for herself in the past few years, what with her mother commandeering all of her initial free time to ensure she wasn't dwelling on the breakup and Ron's absence. And now, with the shop absolutely blowing up in popularity for both students and Ministry employees, she's been working nonstop since completing her NEWTs, mostly handling the Diagon Alley business while Fred and George devote their time to the Hogsmeade store and creating the inventory. She hadn't minded, at first, but now when she looks back and realizes how quickly the weeks have flown by, it only serves to remind her that she's stagnant. They're all stagnant. All of them except Ron, of course, and she quickly shuts down the despairing train of thought that threatens to overtake her.

She finishes up more quickly than she'd expected, now that she's not distracted by the comings and goings of customers, and realizes that she has a few minutes before the Ministry-enforced curfew hits and George comes looking for her. She gazes out onto the snow once more, and making her decision, quickly gathers her things and steps outside.

It's been ages since she's spent any meaningful time outside alone, and she welcomes the quiet. Something about the stillness of the night calms her, though in the back of her mind she knows that there's always a storm coming, always some disruption at bay. She can't get too comfortable. Constant vigilance, and all that.

She turns her face towards the sky, relishing in the cool, sweet snow gently tapping on her face. She takes in a deep breath and feels some of her stress uncoil. Alone and carefree, even just for a few moments. It's what she's been longing for, and she continues to stand there, not caring about the hem of her robes getting soaked in the growing pile of snow at her feet.

She breathes out, as slowly as she can, and feels the world exhale with her.

And then, something invisible and immovable slams into her. She's snatched, pressed up against something, some _one,_ and forced into a Side-Along to an unknown destination before she has the chance to touch the wand she foolishly left in her pocket, let alone scream.

 _This is it_ , she thinks to herself, in the rapid-fire way thoughts form in the moments before death. She's going to die, all because she wanted a little alone time that she could have gotten, warm in her bed, tired but not asleep after dinner. She's going to leave her parents daughterless, her brothers sisterless, she's never going to say goodbye to Ron or Hermione or Harry ever again because she was stupid and reckless. Harry. Oh _Merlin_ , Harry. He'd left her behind with the sole purpose of keeping her safe and alive. And she'd wasted it. He'd come back and find out that his sacrifice was all for nothing.

In the split-second she has between the departure and the arrival, she swears to never take her life for granted again if she makes it out.

Her feet touch the ground and when she feels her captor stumble slightly, she starts screaming and flailing, hoping for a chance to break free and reach her wand deep in her inner pocket. Her struggle is unsuccessful, as her captor claps a hand over her mouth in such a way that she can't bite, and he manages to put a Body-Bind curse on her before she can twist away.

He carries her to a bed and her insides turn to ice. Her mind automatically jumps to the worst conclusion and she quickly takes in the scene around her, looking for an exit. He likely put up Anti-Apparition wards when he landed, and she's not going to risk Splinching herself. There's a door on the opposite wall, but it's next to a fireplace and there's a table placed directly in front of it. Still, it's faster to blast through the table and run out the door than it is to open up the window on the eastern wall and shimmy out. It may not even be large enough for her to fit through.

Her mind is whirring and she almost misses her captor stepping away from the bed and disrobing. Her horror grows and all she can do is wait.

He pulls off his hood and she braces herself - but it's Harry.

It's _Harry_.

He looks at her, plainly, and asks with no small amount of irritation, "Can I release you or are you going to keep alerting every damn Death Eater out there of my location?" He pauses. "Well, I guess you can't answer that, so please, don't alert every damn Death Eater out there of my location. _Accio Ginny's wand!"_ He then lifts the Body-Bind curse but doesn't lower his wand.

She gasps, slowly sits up. She can't look away from him, frozen nearly as solid as before with shock. She can feel herself gaping like a fish, but there aren't any words coming to fill the silence.

It's Harry. Thin as a rail, clearly malnourished, in desperate need of a haircut and stressed beyond belief, but it's Harry.

He glares at her. "Are you out of your damn mind? There's a curfew, Ginny! There's a war going on! Death Eaters have tripled in numbers! Your own _brothers_ host a radio show about the murders and Snatchings and disappearances happening every week! What the fuck were you thinking?!"

She blinks, very much expecting a greeting of some kind rather than the childish scolding she's received instead. "I'm well aware of what's going on, Harry, because some of us have actually had to live in the real world and _deal with it_ , rather than just hiding in the woods for the past few years and abandoning everyone they love." She's surprised at the poison dripping from her words - where did _that_ come from?

He narrows his eyes at her. "Don't turn this back around on me. _You_ are the one frolicking around alone at night. _You_ are the one with no common sense. _You_ are the one putting yourself at risk." His finger, pointing accusatorily, emphasizes his words. "There was _nothing_ stopping someone from kidnapping you the way I did. You didn't even go for your wand!"

Anger growing with every passing second, she scoffs. "The only reason I was kidnapped is because _you_ decided to do it, not because I can't take care of myself! I've been protecting myself for _years_ now, because nobody's heard from you! Nobody knows if you're even alive! And --"

Wait.

Nobody knows if he's alive. _Nobody_ has heard from him. Why did he decide to show up in the middle of Diagon Alley, a few minutes before curfew, without knowing where Ginny was? Why did he abduct her? Why is he alone? Where are Ron and Hermione?

 _Nobody knows if he's alive_.

She blinks, stares at him. The icy feeling in her gut returns with a punch.

"You're not Harry, are you?" she whispers.

He blinks back, clearly bewildered. "What?"

She swallows back the tears that threaten to well. "You're not Harry. What have you done with him? Where is he? Where are Ron and Hermione?" He can't be dead. But nobody knows if he's alive.

"Ginny, I promise it's me. Nobody's captured me, Ron and Hermione are fine. They can't have made a Polyjuice of me." He waves his wand in front of her. "See? It's my wand."

She shakes her head. "So you took his wand to make sure he couldn't defend himself, and to better sell the disguise to me. What do you want with me if you already have him? Give me back my wand, you coward." Her voice shakes with her demands, and she's not sure if it's out of fear, rage, or both.

"I'm not giving you back your wand just to hex me silly and leave me defenseless in the middle of nowhere. What do you want me to do, prove that it's me?" He looks a little unnerved, which is slightly heartening to see. Maybe she hasn't grown as soft as she'd thought. "My favorite dessert is treacle tart. I have a house-elf named Kreacher, Ron hates him but Hermione tries to be nice to him. I've got scars on the back of my hand from detention with Umbridge." He flashes the scars at her, as if Polyjuice wouldn't have replicated them.

She almost rolls her eyes. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? As if your people haven't tortured me for information before? Even if all of those things weren't the most obvious, well-known bits of trivia about him, I know how you get answers that you want. Give me back my wand."

"I know your middle name is Molly, the same name as your mother. I know you like sausage better than bacon. I know you like Chasing better than Seeking."

She clenches her fists. "Anyone can know that. I'm sure that You-Know-Who has a whole file on everyone in my family, blood traitors and friends to the Chosen One that we are. Rattling off facts about _me_ is hardly a way to prove that you're Harry. _Give me back my wand."_

He takes a step backwards. Good. "We once spent an hour at Hogwarts trying to count all the freckles on your legs, but when we got to your thighs..." He trails off, face flushing in a very Harry-like manner. _It's not Harry,_ she reminded herself.

He seems - mistakenly so - to take her cold silence as permission to continue. "We traced constellations on your stomach. I told you my favorite was Andromeda because of where it ended." His flush deepens, but he seems strangely emboldened. "The giant squid splashed at us when it felt we were getting too comfortable."

That particular day has always been a fond memory for her, and now it's been tarnished. _How dare he,_ she thinks. She can almost ignore the tiny voice in the back of her mind, asking why on Earth the Death Eaters would want information on her sex life, or how they would know to talk about it in the same peculiar, embarrassed way that Harry always does. Always did. _Nobody knows if he's alive._

She glares at him, hoping to cover up her momentary belief of his claimed identity. The glint in his eyes tell her that she didn't cover it up very well.

He takes a step towards her.

"Once, after dinner, we hid in the portrait enclosure near the Ravenclaw tower. You said my birthmark was called a 'port-wine stain' and..."

He swallows, hard, his face much redder than she'd ever seen it before, "you... you, well... you remember, I'm sure."

He steps forward again. She can almost feel the heat radiating from his face, close as he is, and she is too shocked at what he's retelling to move away. "And then, afterwards, I said I owed you, and you told me how to, erm, repay you, and we didn't get very far before Lyle Shorewall came poking around the curtains."

She's backed up against the wall, still sitting on the bed. She shakes her head, trying to bring herself back to the present. "Harry wouldn't dream of, well, what _you_ were clearly planning on doing. You'd think you'd know that, given how well you're able to speak about _our_ memories." She wonders where her earlier venom went, surprised by her plain, calm tone. And she wonders why she's now having to remind herself of all the logic behind her earlier conviction.

This, at least, seems to perplex him. "What do you mean, 'planning on doing?' I told you I didn't want you to leave me defenseless, I didn't want to give you back your wand until I felt safe."

She gestures to the bed. "No, I mean with _this_."

He still stands over her, confusion evident on his face, until she can practically see the comprehension hit him at full force. He cringes, disgust and revulsion blooming over his features. He steps back. "Ginny, I put you on the bed so that you wouldn't crash to the ground when I petrified you, not to -" and with a shake of his head refuses to finish the sentence. He steps back, again, clearly now cognizant of the tone he's set, and seems intent on putting as much space between them as possible.

Until she reaches out, arms somehow acting of their own accord, and grabs his hand. "Wait."

Just because nobody knows if he's alive doesn't mean he's dead. It just means he's in hiding. Surely the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself would have made it public knowledge if they'd captured him, or killed him. Or, at the very least, they would have made some sort of power grab, now that there's no martyr left. She shudders, having temporarily forgotten just how much she'd learned from the Carrows those two awful years.

And really, it doesn't make any sense as to why some Death Eater would go out of their way to kidnap her, convince her that he's actually Harry, if all she had to do was wait him out for an hour.

"If you were really Harry, you'd do three things for me."

He blinks. "Okay, what?"

She holds up a finger. "One, you'd send a Patronus to George letting him know that I'm safe and that I'll be back home soon." He nods, and with a flick of his wand sends a silvery message.

"Two, you'd light a fire, because there is a bloody blizzard outside, and this stupid cabin doesn't seem to be holding in any warmth." Another nod, another flick of his wand, and a fire is crackling on the ground, with Hermione's signature blue flames.

"And three, you'd sit on the bed with me, and we can sit quietly, just looking at each other, like we always used to do," she lies, because if it actually _does_ turn out to be an impersonator, the facade would fade after an hour or so, and this way, she's giving her family more time to run for safety, even if it means she's going to die.

A puzzled look returns to his face. "I will, but I think maybe you're confusing me with someone else." Nevertheless, he moves to the space she's made for him on the bed, and simply looks at her.

Ginny's sense of time isn't great, but over the next long stretch of time she becomes more and more confident that it _is_ Harry, that the Polyjuice should have worn off, that she _is_ safe and so is he. For the time being, at least.

She clears her throat, feeling its dry rasp after close to an hour of disuse. "So."

He rubs at his eyes, clearly having fought the urge to fall asleep over the last few minutes. "So...?" He blinks. "Wait, were you waiting to see if my Polyjuice was going to fade?"

She flashes him a faint smile. "Can I have my wand back now?"

He nods. "Please don't do anything rash, Ginny, I still have plenty to do and I'm not particularly safe right now." But he hands over her wand anyway, and she quickly takes it, not especially eager to part with it again.

He doesn't move from the bed, and neither does she. After a moment he seems to realize that she's not going to hex him, and the tension eases.

He clears his throat as well. "Look, I'm sorry, for scaring you. I didn't mean to... erm, kidnap you, but I saw you just standing in the street after curfew and got worried."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes again, not willing to sour the mood. "Why exactly were you in Diagon Alley, anyway? Doing some light shopping?"

He doesn't seem to feel too bad about _his_ eye roll. "No. We're all at a safe house and I needed some space. I've been living in a tent with Ron and Hermione for years now. There's a limit to how much bickering I can tolerate."

She nods. He clears his throat again. "Besides, I wanted to take notice of how much the world's been destroyed. My next stop was going to be across the hill from the Burrow. I only get so much information from your brothers' show, I wanted to see everyone with my own eyes. I wanted to see _you_ , with my own eyes, really."

She's grateful that she doesn't go red like Ron. "Well, you've seen me. I'm doing alright."

"Better than alright. You look healthy."

"Can't say the same for you."

He rolls his eyes, again. When exactly had he picked up that habit? "Well, like I said, I've been living in a tent, eating mushrooms and the occasional fish. I've only just started eating mostly normally again. I'll fill out soon enough."

She scoffs. "I wasn't even talking about that, if you can believe it. I suppose there aren't many mirrors in the tent." He looks slightly hurt, which surprises her. "Sorry, that came off much meaner than I intended. You just look... unkempt, which is I guess to be expected. Let me help." She casts a hair-trimming charm she'd learned from the girls at Hogwarts, and suddenly, he looks almost like himself again.

He runs his hands through his hair and over his face. "Thanks. Do you know how to get rid of the stubble?"

She flashes a small grin. "I like the stubble."

A new kind of tension hangs between them. She's hit with an urge to rub her palm against his jaw and manages to tamp it down. "Out of the memories you brought up earlier... which was your favorite?" She's a little surprised at her boldness, but isn't exactly remorseful.

His flush returns with a vengeance. "Oh. Well. I like all of them."

"If you had to pick."

His jaw twitches. "Erm... well, I'm partial to... the last one, I suppose. Before Lyle Shorewall made his appearance," he adds hastily.

She holds his gaze, and speaks more quietly than she has all night. "Mine, too."

He smiles, a faint, sweet thing, and she knows she's welcome to do what she wants. So she does.

She removes his glasses, and she leans in, presses her lips against his. He responds, slow and warm, and moves his hands through her hair. She clambers into his lap, running her lips under his ear, and rubs her palm against his jaw. It feels just as she'd imagine, and she shivers with the thought of his stubble rubbing against a more sensitive part of her.

He seems to misinterpret her movements, and whispers, "Is this okay?"

She nods and kisses him again, opening her mouth and licking inside him.

He tastes sweet, like her youth, and she can't get enough. A small voice in her head whispers to her that this is a bad idea, that she's just going to regret it, it'll make it that much more difficult to move on. But she doesn't care. It's been too long since she's really _felt_ , really felt wholly alive.

And that's how he makes her feel. Alive.

She can feel the blood rushing through her arms, nerves shooting down her legs, sparks flying in her thighs, and she wants more.

She falls onto the bed, pulls him on top of her, delighting in the sensation of his weight pressing into her, his teeth sharp against her collarbone. She sucks in a breath as he threads his fingers through her hair and slides his hand down her side. She tugs at the hem of his shirt, trying to yank it around his head without interrupting them, but he goes still.

"Wait, Ginny, wait." He's slightly breathless, which she's pleased to see.

She blinks at him, waiting for him to elaborate. But he just stares around her - anywhere except her - instead.

He sits back on his heels and rubs his face. "What are we doing?"

She's not quite sure how to answer that. "I didn't think it was that ambiguous."

He scoffs. "Charming. No, I mean, what are we _doing_? What happens afterwards? I don't even know if I'll make it out of this alive. I don't even know if you're seeing someone else! Am I supposed to ask you to _wait_ for me? Am I supposed to give you my blessing to find someone else? Do I -" and his self-flagellating monologue is cut short by Ginny's short, brash laugh.

"Merlin, Harry, good to know you're still a complete basket case."

He glares at her. "It's not totally unreasonable to have a discussion about our, well... y'know. It." He rubs the back of his neck, likely hoping to distract from the flush blooming across his face once again.

This time she doesn't hold back the eye roll. "Harry, it doesn't _matter_. I've known for _years_ now that I was never guaranteed a normal relationship with you. I've never once expected you to prioritize me while _he_ is still out there. I knew, from the first moment I decided I wanted you, what I was getting myself into. You don't have to worry about offending my delicate sensibilities."

He still looks very uncertain, so she adds, "And I can't imagine how many romantic opportunities you've been afforded, while in hiding and all, but I can assume it's certainly more than what I've encountered."

He smiles again, faint but steady, and after a few moments spent internally debating himself, she sees the moment he chooses _her_ , chooses her over chivalry or nobility or whatever stupid bloody concept he's married himself to, despite everyone else's requests for divorce.

He leans forward, gently holding her face in his hands, and it's so unexpectedly sweet that Ginny feels a strange lump in her throat.

This feels like a goodbye. Like they know this is the last time.

She pushes the thought out of her mind and instead directs her focus to Harry's lips sweeping over hers, under her jaw, below her ears, down the line of her neck, and she swallows, hard, trying to keep herself from playing her hand too early.

Clearly, she's unsuccessful, judging by his smirk, and he lays himself completely on her, little points of contact all over her body, and she makes a small, happy sound, knowing that he's the only person she'd feel comfortable with being completely enveloped by, without feeling suffocated. Vulnerable.

His hands slide over her shoulders, and one of them catches on her sleeve, accidentally pulling it slightly down her arm. He leans back, mumbling, "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to -"

She shakes her head, smiling, and struggles to sit up while pulling off her jumper, but with his help she manages to get it over her head.

She sees him looking at her, with a little glint of admiration in his eye, and she gestures to her bra. "Is it - can I take it off, or would that -" but he's already nodding his head, almost before she gets the words out.

She pulls it over her head - thank Merlin for sports bras - and suddenly she's aware of how cold the cabin is, even with the fire below.

Harry seems to realize that he's been staring, shakes his head and smiling a bit, and leans back over her, keeping her warm.

Soon enough he's rubbing his hands, and then his mouth, and then his tongue, over her breasts, and she shivers, unrelated to the temperature. He seems to notice that, judging by the flash of a smirk that passes on his face, and he's trailing his mouth down her stomach before she realizes that he's making a pretty clear indication of what he'd like to do next.

She smiles, undoes her belt, and starts to push down the top of her trousers, and Harry pulls them the rest of the way off, slow as can be. He simply looks at her in her underwear, silly grey cotton briefs that she's worn a hundred times, but he looks on all the same.

She whispers, "I guess we'll be even, hm?"

He smiles, and lowers himself over her. He kisses her again, and gently rubs his fingers where her nerves are gathering.

She shivers again, and pulls his head closer, licking deep into him, and she can feel herself anticipating what's next.

He pulls back, and slides down the bed, holding her gaze all the while, until he replaces his finger with his tongue.

 _Oh_.

Soon she's got the makings of rug burn on her inner thighs, and her underwear is damp through and through. He tugs them down, off her legs and throws them onto the floor.

His tongue flat against her, no fabric in between, is so different than anything she'd felt before.

She can feel him licking deep into her, and his thumb rubbing where she's most sensitive, and she can't quite catch her breath and she keeps trying to look down at him, but her eyes just won't stay open. He licks up and swipes his thumb down below, and the change in motion has her legs shaking.

She's got a pressure building up inside her, and he's relentless, though clearly a little uncertain - she can feel his nose, his fingers, his lips, his tongue, running all over her inside and out, rubbing on her hair below, and she can't keep up, she can't catch the pattern, she's too distracted by the pressure shooting through her.

She catches herself gasping, "Faster, oh, Harry, oh, _oh_ -," and her voice breaks and her thighs tremble and the sparks shoot into a pulse between her legs.

She pulls him up and kisses him, over and over and over again, and the taste of herself is... interesting, to say the least.

He drops to her side, kisses her cheek and her neck while her breathing slows.

She turns to him. He's so beautiful like this - the rare, sincere grin, sheer happiness and excitement. It's something she hasn't seen in a long, long time.

He notices her staring. "What?" His face is still flushed, but she swears it gets redder. "Was that - not -"

She snorts. "I'd assume you'd know the answer to that."

He flashes a smile and relaxes again.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Although, I have to ask..."

He shakes his head. "No. _No_. Seamus had a habit of... oversharing, in the dorms."

"Ah."

She turns to hold him close, and feels him against her thigh.

Clearly embarrassed, he chokes out, "You - it's not - sorry."

Poor Harry. She chuckles and releases him. "It's okay, I expected that." She glances down. "Should I...?"

He holds her gaze. "It doesn't... I'm not actually keeping score, Ginny."

She shrugs, as best she can laying on her side. "I know. It was just nice to make you feel good, last time." She grins. "Before Lyle Shorewall came poking 'round the curtains."

He holds her head, kisses her so, so gently. His chivalry is sweet, sometimes, though often incredibly frustrating. She moves closer to him, rubs her palm against his stubble, and kisses him deeply once more, shifting her hand until she can reach.

She's rubbing up and down, tightening her fingers, swiping her thumb where she knows it makes him groan, licking into his mouth and sucking on his earlobes and when she feels his leg twitching against hers she knows he's close.

" _Ginny_ ," he breathes into her mouth, and pushes his forehead into hers, eyes clenched shut, and he breathes out, loud and forceful.

She places her hand against his chest, and she can feel his heart beating. He covers her hand with his.

He kisses her forehead and shifts her so her head is curled up into his neck.

He murmurs, "I missed you so much."

She feels tears prick at her eyes, and wills them away. She nods. "Yeah."

They lay, just like that, for a little while.

Eventually, Ginny realizes that George will be out of his mind with worry, if he isn't already, and she should go.

They reluctantly step back into their clothes, and when the last clasp is fastened on her cloak, the sadness in the air is almost palpable.

She touches her palm to his jaw, strokes her thumb across his cheekbone. She looks into his eyes, and she knows he understands what she can't bring herself to say - _I love you, I know you're doing what you can, stay safe, stay healthy, stay whole, I hope to see you soon_ \- and sees the same from him.

His sorrow is etched across his face, but he nods, and waves his wand.

She swallows. "I won't tell them I saw you."

He nods again, murmurs, "Thank you," and pulls the Invisibility Cloak over his head.

She whispers, "Goodbye," and turns on the spot.

\---

In an instant, she's back home, only a few meters away from the front door. She sees George peering out the window, and waits for him to open the door.

He cracks it open, just one eye visible, and points his wand at her. "What was the first spell I ever taught you?"

She grins. "Bat-Bogey Hex."

That doesn't seem good enough. "And who was your first victim?"

She remembers that. Quite a feat, and he'd stomped out in a rage when the rest of the family just roared with laughter, and Mum wasn't home to scold her. "Percy."

He opens the door just wide enough for her to slip in, and locks it behind her, casting the rest of the protective spells.

She whispers, "You covered for me?"

In response, he yanks her by the hand up the stairs to her room, pushes her in, and shuts the door behind him, hissing, "Where in the bloody _fuck_ have you been?! Why didn't you send your own Patronus?!"

She sits on the bed. "I can't tell you, but I promise, I'm okay, and I was safe the whole time."

His eyes almost pop out of his head. "Did McGonagall ask something of you?"

She considers lying, but that would probably create more trouble later. "No. It was personal. If I could tell you, I would. But it would put everyone in danger." She stands up and holds his hand. "I _swear_ , I'm okay, and I've been safe the entire time."

He glares at her for so long she starts to fidget, but she doesn't look away. He shoves a finger in her face. "Don't ever do that to me again. From now on, we are leaving together, and you're never allowed to say another _word_ about this for the rest of your life."

She nods. "I promise."

He walks towards the door, and as he holds the handle she can see his shoulders slump. She whispers, "I'm really sorry, George."

He doesn't look at her, just shakes his head and scoffs, and she feels a pit of shame form in her stomach, and he leaves her alone with her thoughts.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea. But only time will tell.

She gets herself ready for bed, drinks the Sleeping Draught she's been secretly brewing for as long as the world began to crumble, and quickly falls asleep.


End file.
